Chapter Seven
Disclaimer: The Walking Dead belongs to Robert Kirkman and AMC, I just wrote this for fun with no copyright infringement intended.
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Its hot in the guard tower and it smells like stale sweat, and Andrea can spy a discarded pair of lacy women's panties in the corner.
"Who the hell comes up here?"
Daryl follows her gaze, smirks at the lacy scrap. "Maggie and Glen come up here to keep watch."
"Keep watch over what?" Andrea shakes her head, smiles. "Maggie and Glen. Never would have thought it."
"End of the world makes you think about things a little differently."
"Clearly."
Andrea's smile dims when Carol appears in the guard tower with a tray of food. The older woman throws a cautious, guilty smile Andrea's way but her eyes are on the hunter, bright and glittering.
"Thought you two might want some lunch. What's the news on our visitors?"
"Scoutin' around in the bushes, far as I can tell." Daryl's back is to both women, binoculars raised to his eyes. "Count one, two …. Five. Merle's with 'em. Guy looks like shit."
"What does Rick want you to do?"
Carol's at Daryl's side, peering over his shoulder, the skin on her throat brushing against his arm. Andrea bites into the lukewarm gruel that passes for food in this place, marvels at how much Carol has changed. It's like the Carol that Andrea knew is dead and gone, and this new creature is walking around in her skin. What has happened, in the months she's been gone?
"Nothin' for now." Daryl beckons Andrea closer with his hand, his gaze not leaving the people milling around. "Andrea, c'm'here. Tell me how many you recognise."
The binoculars are thrust into Andrea's hand and she puts them to her eyes, the eyepiece warm and wet with sweat. Her fingers shake when she puts them to her eyes, suddenly terrified of seeing Philip's face, swollen and engorged and completely in her line of vision. When nothing but a handful of his lackeys crowded the view screen, she breathes a sigh of relief.
"Aside from your brother, they aren't anyone. The Governor's henchmen." She returns the binoculars, surprised that her hands are still shaking. "They do patrols of the neighboring areas. Phil … The Governor told me that they had captured two terrorists from a prison."
"Merle took Glen and Maggie." Carol's voice is accusatory. "Were they his terrorists?"
"I don't know. I didn't see them. I didn't even know they were in Woodbury until I got here."
Daryl's hand closes over Andrea's for a split as he retrieves the binoculars. "What can you tell me about 'em?"
"Nothing, really. I never went on any patrols."
"What?" Daryl looks surprised. "They ain't seen you with a pistol?"
"There weren't any weapons allowed in Woodbury." Andrea looks down. Suddenly her cheeks are burning and she remembers how easily she allowed her prowess to be dismissed by easy smiles and soft touches. "The Governor was very … particular about who he let go on patrol, who he let have weapons. You had to earn it."
Daryl nods once, makes for the stairwell. "Rick wants to see you."
"Is he going to lock me up again? Because if he is then I have nothing to say to him."
"That's between you and him. He wants to know about Woodbury, the Governor, everything. Glen and Maggie got one story." Daryl cocks his head to one side. "Now Rick wants to hear yours." He turns to Carol, who's already got her eye sighted down a rifle scope, the barrel trained on their new interlopers. "Any of 'em get close, you know what to do?"
"Relax, Daryl." Carol breaks her concentration to give him a warm smile. "I know what to do."
Andrea can only stand agape and stare at this much-altered creature until Daryl takes her hand and jerks her away.
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Rick's in what must have once been the prison warden's office when Andrea and Daryl find him. He's sat at the big, functional wooden desk, picking through the files that have been flung around the office.
"We should consider ourselves lucky that most of these guys are dead." He returns the papers to the files and closes the nude files. "Rapists, murderers, child molesters … these are not the guys we would want for cellmates, or loose for the rest of the world to fear."
"Guess this doesn't feel like such a step up for you." Andrea inches into the office, picks up a letter stamp, twirls it in her fingers, ink flaking from the rubber markings. "Sitting pretty, locking up badguys and keeping all the paperwork in nice, neat little piles. Bet you even had a cute little stamp like this one."
Rick laughs, shakes his head. "Could say the same thing about you. Look at us both: it's the end of the world and here we are, the lawyer and the lawman sitting behind bars and thanking God for them."
"Guess life's funny like that." Daryl mutters.
Rick gestures that she sits down, looking far too at home behind that big desk, but then, Andrea sits down and immediately reaches for a pen; guess we don't slough off our old skins that easily, after all.
"Looks like your friends from Woodbury have come looking for you."
"I wouldn't count on that." She replies.
"Well, why else would they be out there, combing the woods?"
"Maybe they wanted some exercise."
Rick laughs, looks anything but amused. Then the smile's gone as soon as its there. "Try again."
"I don't know why they're out here. Guess I left my telepathy in my other pair of pants."
"They want something."
Andrea wipes her brow, comes away dirty and sweaty. She wants her pistol, hasn't felt right without it since they took it from her. "You guys did break into their town, kill a load of their kin and cause chaos. That would put a dampener on anyone's day."
"Tell us about Woodbury."
Daryl's voice is soft behind her, and when Andrea turns her head he's dragged a chair next to her and sits just out of reach, pushing against her chair leg and tipping his own onto the back legs. It's the first time she's seen him still since her impromptu jailbreak.
She shrugs. "What do you want to know?"
Rick and Daryl exchange a look. Rick nods once, stays silent, pushes his chair back and leaves, closing the door behind him. Then silence; utter silence. No air conditioning, no prison catcalls (Andrea's visited enough prisons to have heard them all), no footsteps on the hallways. Just silence, her and Daryl in uncomfortable chairs and expectation filling the room.
Andrea gives Daryl a surprised look. "Good cop, bad cop, Daryl?"
"Figured you'd be more likely to talk to me than Rick. Kinda obvious he ain't your favourite person right now."
"Can you blame me?"
"Ain't my problem who you blame or don't blame. Just want to know what you know."
"So you can run off and tell Rick?" Andrea snorts derision. "I don't think so, Daryl."
"Depends what it is you got to say."
For an awful second Andrea's gaze drifts to Daryl's scarred knuckles, her mind on Herschel's farm, the last time she saw him properly. She remembers the last time Rick let Daryl have his way questioning a suspect.
She dispels it as soon as she thinks it. Daryl isn't that man. Not with her. He might be many things, but he'd never hit her.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything."
Wordlessly, Daryl reaches to the waistband at the back of his pants, withdraws something shiny and metal and magpieish and sets it on Rick's desk, sliding it towards her with slow, practiced ease. His gaze holds hers and doesn't blink, and he's a different person. Gone is the angry man who threw crossbows and beat suspects to near-death. He leans forwards, his forearms resting on his knees, like they're two old friends which, she supposes, they are.
Andrea's hand reached for her beloved pistol but he holds it firm, not budging. When he speaks, his voice is soft, almost seductive, and Andrea can't tear her gaze away.
"Ya stayed there awhile, according to Michonne. Fresh water, even electricity, safety, medicine, walls to keep out walkers. Must have been something to fight for."
"If Michonne's told you everything then what do you need me for?"
Daryl's head dips towards the pistol but like her, he doesn't look away. "'Cos they didn't give you this." He said. "You trusted them, but they didn't trust you. Or at least, they didn't trust you to protect the group. But she knew you knew stuff. Michonne didn't tell us everything. Didn't tell us much of anything, because she couldn't. Said that you were the person to ask since you were in The Governor's … confidence."
Andrea's stomach turns as she thinks about those times amid grey sheets, thinks about the picture Daryl's just painted: desirable enough to be taken to bed, but not valued enough to protect the group. Is that what she wants to be, what she was to Woodbury, to The Governor?
"They'll fight for it." She says, mouth dry. She couldn't not answer Daryl, even if she wanted to. His eyes hold hers like a hypnotist's, his voice a cool drink of water on this hot, mucky day. "There's seventy, eighty of them. Families and couples from what I saw, so maybe half that able to fight, but they will fight for it, Daryl. Fight tooth and nail for it. You only saw one side of them. They're a community, a family. They took us in, saved my life, gave us medicine and food and hope. Your brother … he pulled us from death and gave us some place to stay. The Governor …." She exhales a long, ragged breath and forces herself to remember memories several weeks old. "They treat him like a Messiah. Even Merle."
"What about the Governor?" Daryl's face is an expressionless, if badly-beaten, mask.
Andrea swallows, her throat thick and heavy. "He … he's interested in power. He's interested in resources, and control. He doesn't like to not be in control. Anyone who poses even a whisper of a threat and he'll eliminate them"
"What about him … Philip?" The name slides of Daryl's tongue and Andrea feels vomit rise at the back of her throat.
"He was married." She swallows, looks Daryl in the eye. "A blonde woman. There was a daughter, Penny … Michonne killed her. She was a walker. He kept her in a box with a chain on her neck. There were experiments on walkers, trying to see if there was any humanity left in them. There were others … heads … so much water."
She finally tears her gaze away and sags. Their exchange has lasted minutes and she feels drained of every emotion.
Daryl nods, moves to rise and Andrea grabs his arm. "I won't be judged for staying with them, Daryl." She says. "Not by you or Rick or Glenn or Maggie or anyone else here. They saved my life and gave me a safe place to stay and I'd defy any one of you who doesn't want that for themselves."
"Ain't my place to judge you." He says. "Can't speak for the others, but from what you've told me, sounds like you're beginning to judge yourself."
"Aren't we all?"
"Guess so. Don't forget your pistol, on your way out."
He's gone then, leaving Andrea alone in the prison warden's office.
TBC.
